


A Handful of Magic

by Folle



Series: 47's Wacky Sex Adventure [1]
Category: Hitman (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 21:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Folle/pseuds/Folle
Summary: Agent 47 can't run away from his biological desires any longer.





	A Handful of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> There is a severe lack of porn in the Hitman fandom and I intend to rectify that.
> 
> Working title: 47 jacks off for the first time

Agent 47 was a cold man.

Emphasis on the “was”. He may have been genetically designed to be the perfect killer in every aspect of the word, emotions and biological desires never getting in the way of his missions, but as he grew there were certain things he learned about himself that set him further apart from other people, as if it were possible.

One, while his emotionally capabilities were extraordinarily stunted, they weren’t entirely absent, as some might think. He felt no guilt for killing people, especially when they were deserving of their fate. However, a child being hurt made something in his heart twitch, and the thought of Diana being hurt made his eyesight go red. He marked it up to paternal instincts that they couldn’t manage to remove, and the years of reliance and trust with Diana. She watched his back, and he watches hers.

It’s what made him unique, and one of the best hitmen in the business. He had no messy emotional tangles to prevent him from completing his work, but at the same time, he had enough emotional capability to masquerade as any other human could.

Two, biological desires can never be scrubbed away at, despite in whose hands the genetics are. Limiting testosterone production would have resulted in lower biological urges and cravings, but that would have left 47 with lower muscle mass and other medical complications. That’s where his mental fortitude came in. What proved how he was a specimen of human perfection more than never falling to his baser urges?

At least, that’s how he thought when he was younger, and what he was raised to believed. Escaping Ort-Meyer and being exposed to the real world for the first time trained him in ways that no number of scientists could. He was truly free for the first time, and he could do what he wanted without any restrictions. He could buy a bird, or eat whatever he wanted for dinner, or go to bed after 9pm. Or have sexual relations.

That was something 47 tip-toed around for a long time. He would consider about foraying into the world of biological desires, but he always found an excuse not to. Another contract, there was no one he found particularly attractive, he was tired (a lie), or that he was not in the mood to try anything.

His first experience was after an odd, but initially simple job. Kill the insane wife of a business mogul who had dealings with a dangerous gang on the night of a charity gala, a simple concept. But as the night went on, 47 found that the house was laced with deathtraps and poison, with intentions to kill everyone in the building and seek fame. He, of course, dismantled the traps to save face for his client, and drowned the wife in the bathtub while she washed blood off from the busboy she lured to her room.

When all was said and done, the client thanked him, with an extra $200K, and an entirely too friendly hug and a kiss on both cheeks. He was Italian, it was a cultural thing, and he was extremely thankful and relieved for was 47 exposed. It was nothing more, but there was a way he said his parting phrase, and lingered his touch that got 47 thinking.

“Signore, I cannot express my gratitude enough with words. If you would like to meet up at a later date so I can properly thank you, just name the date and place, and I shall be there.”

Agent 47, of course, declined. He took his money, left the premises, gazed at the window of a boutique where mannequins wore elegant suits, and retired for the night in his small, spartan apartment. He hid the money away in the hollowed-out floorboards in the closet, took some aside to donate to the church, and went through the tedious process of unwinding after such a job.

First a shower, then a meal, and then he would lay down in bed, and stare at the ceiling fan before drifting off to sleep. It was a particularly warm night, so he kept the windows open, listening to the traffic, and laid down in only boxers. Even though he had just showered, 47 could feel sweat building up on his lower back.

There was nothing stopping him that night. No reason he could dig up to excuse experimenting with his own body. He wasn’t tired, and his encounter with the business mogul lingered in the back of his mind. 47 couldn’t be sure what the man was trying to insinuate, but it made him feel weird. Reminiscing about the physical contacts made warmth pool in his stomach. He can’t recount any times he has had any friendly physical contact, but he had to be honest with himself, it was pleasant.

It was then he noticed that the bulge in his boxers was growing larger. He couldn’t beat around the bush any longer, so he slipped his fingers under the elastic band of his boxers, and let his hand brush against his genitals for the first time that wasn’t strictly for hygiene. It was a strange sensation, to say the least, not bad, but something he wasn’t exactly used to.

47 reached for the well-used first aid kit underneath the bed, and pulled out a small, half empty, bottle of aloe vera gel. He pulled down his boxers to expose his half-hard cock. Stroking himself with a slicked-up hand elicited a more visceral reaction.

Each time he stroked his cock, his hips would jerk forward, just by the tiniest fraction. A guttural moan even managed to slip past his lips, but he felt as if it was mechanical. After all, this is hardly what he was trained for. It felt nice, but he knew that it was not how it was supposed to feel. He wasn’t sure exactly how he knew it, perhaps instincts.

Instead of thinking so intensely on an act as simple as masturbating (for Christ sake), he closed his eyes, leaned back in his bed, and tried to relax every muscle he could. Letting his mind drift was a more difficult task as his hand methodically moved back and forth. He eventually stopped, letting his hand rest on his erect member, drifting off into a sort of relaxed state that was entirely new and foreign to him.

He thought of anything he could that could elicit a response. Models he saw in magazines, particularly tantalizing radio personalities, moments of intimacies he accidentally voyeured. Nothing seemed striking enough to make him feel anything. But then he remembered, the business mogul. His name was on the tip of 47’s tongue, but that hardly mattered.

Thinking about the warmth of the man against him was what got him started, slowly running his hand along his dick in a loose first. The mogul’s skin was incredibly soft, he probably hadn’t worked a day in his life, and bought expensive creams that smelled like light flowers. His lips were like silk, and 47 could still feel them on his cheek as if he had been branded.

While 47 was completely unfamiliar with sexuality, he was certain the mogul was well versed in the act. He was limited by his imagination, but the thought of being ravished at the mercy of someone else, trusting someone enough with his body to let them do as they pleased made him have to muffle a moan with his free hand.

47 closed his fist tighter around his cock as he jerked it rougher, keeping his other hand clamped tightly over his mouth. He couldn’t stop half formed groans and little noises from forming in his throat, and even though he was silent to the outside world, he could still hear himself. He was winding himself up further and further, until he finally came, choking on his own noises.

It was well worth the wait, he thought as he laid back, panting, against his sweat covered bedsheet. It was better than the rush of a job well completed, and left him breathless, and truly relaxed. If it was this good alone, then he could hardly imagine what it would be like with another, more experienced partner. The thought alone made a rare, small smile, form on his face.

Agent 47 wiped his dirty hand on the bedsheet, expecting he would have to shower and do laundry again tomorrow morning before he went off to work again, and for once in a very long time, drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
